


Overhang

by weakzen



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakzen/pseuds/weakzen
Summary: Aloth and the Watcher take shelter together during one of Neketaka's downpours.





	Overhang

She peered down at his grimoire.

“Is it okay?”

“It's wet,” he said, gingerly turning its pages.

“The ink isn't running, at least.”

“Only by design. It would take considerable and prolonged saturation for that to happen to any well-constructed grimoire.” He frowned and skimmed his fingers across the vellum. “I am concerned the pages will curl later, though.”

“Well, we can't have that.”

“No, we can't.” Aloth glanced at her. “Not when curled pages make it more difficult to find the correct spell in combat.”

Grin fading, Seraphina bit her lip and turned toward the downpour raging around them.

“Okay, well, after the worst of this passes, we'll find some place warm to dry it out. There's gotta be a nice, quiet café nearby, right?” She folded her arms and hugged them against her body. “We can grab some cushions near a fire, have some pastries and coffee, and find something to weight it down so it dries flat. Or, you know, I could always just sit on it in a pinch.”

He snorted as he carefully closed the grimoire. “Are you certain you're heavy enough for the task?”

“No, and good point.” She flashed him another grin. “We'll ask the largest aumaua man we can find instead.”

“I'd prefer it flat, not squashed entirely,” he remarked, tucking his grimoire away. “But the rest of that sounds lovely.”

Smiling, she turned away again to watch the rain.

The afternoon deluge always chased everyone inside until it dissipated, but Neketaka's streets never truly emptied. A shallow river now rushed over their cobblestones and sluiced down the hill. The two of them stood in safety above the torrent, on the high ground of a random doorstep they'd sprinted towards. Above them, a small overhang provided some shelter, although the sheets of water cascading off its edge still splattered onto their already sodden boots. He dripped too, from his hair and hems. And so did she, in rivulets he could see slowly winding down her neck.

Gooseflesh prickled across his skin then, although he couldn't say if it was from the chill in the air or the proximity to her body. Heat rolled tantalizingly off her skin and, at this distance, at how closely the tight space forced them together, he couldn't help but notice it. Or that she still smelled of flowers. Jasmine now, though, instead of the lavender and chamomile she used to clip every time they passed through Caed Nua.

He wondered if she still remembered that time she tied bundles of them to his pack to dry, when she'd run out of space on her own bag. The smell had lingered in the leather long after he set sail from the Eastern Reach. For years, it almost felt like she was still with him, every time he rifled through his bag and caught the scent.

He wondered if she also remembered the time she tucked a calendula blossom behind his ear, her pollen-stained fingers brushing against his cheek as she told him he had lovely eyes. Or if she remembered sitting next to him in that cold sanitarium and curling those same, warm fingers around his hand. Or if she remembered when he'd twined his fingers between her own, squeezing tightly before they jumped into that pit. Or when he'd cupped her face and finally kissed her in that fire-lit room in Stalwart.

And, if she did remember any of it, he wondered if she recalled those memories with the same frequency he did. Or if they had ever meant as much to her as they did to him. Or if, despite the time and distance and burdens they both carried, she still cared for him the way she once did.

The way he realized, more and more with every passing day, that he still cared for her.

“I'm stealing your warmth,” she announced suddenly, then leaned back into him

Heat bloomed in his cheeks. “Oh, of course. Go right ahead. It's not as though I need any of it for myself.”

A silent chuckle shook her frame as she let her weight press fully against him. His eyes closed briefly, and his hands twitched with the urge to slide over her hips.

“You know, that's one of the many things I like about you, Aloth. You're always so considerate and giving, and you never complain about anything.”

“What's there to complain about? The weather is agreeable and the company is so perfectly… _dry,_ ” he said, squishing some water from her sleeve instead.

She laughed openly, and he felt his lips pulling into a smile as well.

“Hey, at least I only _look_ like I drowned this time.”

Aloth tensed as his breath snagged hard in his chest.

She didn't, though, he wanted to say. She didn't look like she'd just drowned at all. That, at least, he knew she didn't remember.

But _he_ did.

And her lips weren't blue.

Her skin wasn't impossibly cold either, nor her body impossibly still. She wasn't laying on the ground, paler than the snow, while Maneha compressed her chest and screamed at her to come back. And he wasn't standing there, mutely watching it unfold while he stared down at her lifeless form, while his eyes stung and numbness seized his limbs, while something horrible twisted in his chest, something that still ached even now.

“…You can, um, steal my warmth too,” she added quietly. “If you want.”

He exhaled softly. “Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of taking mine?”

“Well, _yeah_ , but… maybe efficient thievery was never my real intent.”

“Dare I ask what is, then?”

For a long moment, she said nothing. The rain pounded ceaselessly as they trembled together.

Seraphina folded her arms tighter.

“…Maybe I just missed feeling your arms around me.”

Once more, he tensed, and he knew she'd noticed it again. He wondered if she could she feel the heat in his face too, or his heart beating faster against her back. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been intimate with someone, but he did know precisely how long it had been since he last held her.

It was the same length of time, to the moment, that he'd been wanting and waiting to do it again.

When he touched her neck, she inhaled sharply though her nose, then shivered as he ran his fingers along her skin to collect strands of wet hair. It still fascinated him, how it floated and curled when it was dry, but behaved as though nothing were unusual about it when wet. He knew too, from experience, that if he held a lock up to better light, he could catch the coppery fire that burned brightly beneath the smoke.

Instead, though, he gently pulled it all from between them and tucked it over her shoulder. Then he slid his hands around her waist, folding his arms beneath the warmth of her own as he pulled her against him.

“Like this?” he asked, letting his eyes close and his lips brush against the crook of her neck as he spoke.

She inhaled again, then sighed as she relaxed into him. “I don't know. I'm gonna need more time to decide.”

“That's one of the many things I like about you,” he said, smiling faintly against her skin. “You're always so discerning and deliberating, and you never feel any pressure to make decisions quickly.”

He felt her cheeks widen into a grin. “Glad to hear that you won't mind if I stay awhile, then.”

“Well, I'd never complain anyway if I did, right?”

She laughed again and he held her tighter, breathing in the scent of jasmine and stealing her warmth until the storm passed.


End file.
